The Luxury of Choice
by Draygon-Icewing
Summary: For the Lady Cousland, duty is life, regardless of personal desires. Even for someone as privileged as she, choice and even love were luxuries even she could not afford.


Castle Highever was a bustle with activity as last minute preparations were made for the long march across Ferelden to Ostagar. Tensions were high among the troops, many of whom had never left their home towns let alone the Banning their entire lives. The children of servants played in and around the area, knocking wooden swords together as they engaged in epic battles of their own.

Ale was poured freely as each soldier toasted the health and victory of those around them. And the loudest group was clustered around the sparring ring as soldiers dealt with their excitement and anxiety the best way they knew how. They grew ever more boisterous with ale and cheering, each fighter parading around the ring like a prize fighter before their matches. The crowd cheered as the dull blades of practice swords and daggers clashed, their wielders determined to best the other in front of their units.

The two opponents, a heavily muscled giant of a man from Redcliff and a smaller quick lad from Highever stared each other down as they circled. The giant's great sword, longer than the lad was tall, flashed in wide arcs as he kept the nimble lad at bay.

As they fought, a young woman dressed in all the finery befitting a noble, leaned against the wall, watching the two closely. Several soldiers raised their tankards in respect to her, to which she responded with a small raise of her chin. The trainer overseeing the match caught the look in her eye. He couldn't suppress the smile on his face as he just shook his head.

the crowd winced collectively as the larger warrior knocked the lad's blades out of his hands and continued the treat swords arc to take his legs out from under him, sending him to the ground with a pained grunt. The soldiers cheered as the winner hefted his practice sword over his head and gave a shout of victory. His opponent picked himself up off of the ground, brushing him self off as he slunk away to the healers.

"Who is man enough to challenge me," the warrior bellowed, watching as the soldiers closest to the ring shrank back. None of them wanted to get thrashed by someone who had won five consecutive matches already.

"I am no man, but I will take your challenge." The entire group's eyes focused on the woman dressed in silk as she stepped forward and took a gold pin out of her hair, letting the dark auburn braid fall down her back.

"Are you certain, my Lady?" The trainer stepped in, nearly panicking as he watched the noble woman step into the dirt of the ring in her silk slippers.

"Come, now, Marcus," the lady chuckled as he twirled a pair of daggers expertly in her hands. "I have seen my share of combat and I wish to have my fun before I am forced to languish in this castle while father and Fergus fight beside the king."

"As you wish, my Lady. But your mother will have a fit if she were here."

The noble laughed. "Then let us both be glad she is entertaining and too busy to attend." The young lady kicked off her slippers, grinding her calloused feet into the dirt of the ring. The trainer chuckled, a warm smile on his face as the young lady faced her perplexed opponent. The warrior stared her down, not quite sure if this was some cruel joke at his expense. "It's just a dress, ser. It won't bite."

The large warrior clenched his jaw and lifted his sword into position, still unsure if he were being played for a fool. Deciding to take the safe route, he swung his sword toard her raised daggers, the surprise on his face almost comical when she twisted around to knock his blade out of his hands and sent him to the ground with a sweep of her feet.

"It's not wise to insult your host, ser." She shook her finger at the warrior as he pulled himself up from the ground. "Again!"

The man assumed his position, a grim smile on his face. "As you wish, my Lady." The two stared each other down, the large man waiting until she blinked before before he thrust his sword straight at her throat.

Spinning on one foot, she evaded the attack with ease, knocking his sword to one side and landing a blow with the butt of her dagger on his ribs. The hem of her dress was already destroyed as she maneuvered with a dancer's grace into a guard. "It's not polite to leave a lady unsatisfied, ser." He responded by swinging again, aiming for her midsection.

Before his sword touched her she had leaped over the blade to deliver a round house kick to the warrior's face. The young woman landed in the middle of the ring as the warrior scrambled back to his feet, sword in hand as he charged the young woman with a shout of rage. Her response seemed oddly satisfied as she brought her daggers up to defend.

The young woman danced around the warrior, each fighting with everything they had, trading blows as two warriors equally matched on the battlefield. The crowd was quiet as the two fought, their ale and bets forgotten. Most not from Highever had never seen a noble woman fight with such skill and ferocity as she danced around on bare feet, the warrior's great sword flashing around her, their blades sparking as they met.

His blade caught her on the hand, forcing her to let go of her blade lest she get her fingers crushed, the dagger spinning off into the crowd, clanking harmlessly off of armor and leather. Forced onto the back foot, the young woman spun to avoid another slash toward her midsection. For a moment, she felt more alive than she had for years, hear blood pounding in her veins as she pushed the sword aside to head butt the warrior, her head swimming for an instant before he was on her again.

The warrior swept his sword into a low swing, bringing it up to catch her other dagger. Instead, it caught the torn hem of her dress and split the material all the way up to her waist, exposing the thin leather armor she wore underneath. Taking a hand full of the material, she pulled, ripping the skirt off until all she wore was the silk blouse, the silk belt hanging uselessly from her hips.

Taking the initiative, the young woman charged the warrior, feinting with her dagger before spinning and kicking out her foot to catch him in the chest, sending him sprawling out of the ring. He stayed down, breathing hard as he recovered. He looked up when he saw a shadow block his vision. The young noble woman was over him, holding out her hand to him.

She grunted as she helped him up, the crowd, seemingly bigger than before, cheering the two as they shook hands. "Maker watch over you, ser. And, thank you."

"You are welcome, my Lady. I look forward to fighting with your father and brother on the battlefield. It would be an honor." The warrior bowed to her as the crowd poured more ale and the trainer began setting up new matches. The young woman nodded, taking the remains of her dress off and throwing it into a corner, leaving her in leather armor and no shoes.

"Mother's not going to be happy," she thought with a chuckle. "At least that dress wasn't made this year." Her mother would have her head if she had destroyed the Orlesian silk dress bought for the Landsmeet later this year.


End file.
